“Oh, Fuck.” She muttered as she peeled herself off of the asphalt. Somehow her Jaegermeister flip flops had betrayed her and she fell, face first, in the Target parking lot when exiting her car. Her jaw ached.

She tried to regain her balance (and her dignity) as she walked into the department store, head spinning, eyes throbbing. She hoped no one noticed how many times she attempted to park before deciding that, despite how hard she tried, she couldn’t stay in just one designated parking space.

After a breath, she stumbled toward the door just behind a young, well put together mom. Super Mom somehow managed to match her fitted, blue and white striped sweater with a pair of pink pumps, while her drooling mini-human was strapped to her chest. In her purse: organic gluten-free snacks and a green pressed juice; breakfast for mommy and baby. Super mom looked over at our heroine, as she wiped a dried, red stain from the corner of her mouth. Blood? Taco sauce? Last night’s lipstick? It was hard to say…

Super Mom picked up her pace. The polarization of the two young women was simultaneously hilarious and depressing.

Our heroine, (still drunk?), entered the department store, made a beeline to the bathroom, and vomited violently in the sink.